


The Christmas Quilt

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-17
Updated: 2007-12-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: This is a new Christmas fic taking place post 513.





	The Christmas Quilt

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for the Queer as Christmas LJ Challenge  


* * *

Brian walked down the steps from his bedroom.  He was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, and a happy smile on his face.  He walked over to the bag by the loft door and pulled it open.  He fished out the book he was looking for and flipped through it.  After a minute he set it on the coffee table in front of the sofa.  

 

He walked over to the kitchen and got a beer out of the refrigerator.  Brian took a good long swig before setting the bottle down on the counter.  He picked up the kettle and filled it with water, setting it beside the outlet, but not plugging it in.

 

Brian leaned back against the edge of the counter and sniffed for a moment.  He could smell the faint pungent odor of pine.  He looked over to the tall windows of the loft and smiled.  In front of the windows, slightly off to the side, stood a brightly decorated Christmas tree.  It was the first one that had ever graced the loft.  Its lights twinkled on and off.  They cast a soft glow in the dimmed light of the rest of the large room.  A sense of warmth and contentment flooded through Brian.

 

That feeling didn’t have a long life, as a knock on the loft door interrupted Brian’s musings.  “Fucking building!  Why can’t they fix that front door so that everyone isn’t walking in all the time?” Brian muttered to himself.  He walked to the door and yanked it open, half expecting to see Michael or Debbie or God knows who standing there. “What?” he demanded harshly, before looking up to see who was actually there.  He didn’t appreciate being interrupted in his own home.

 

“Brian,” Joan Kinney said very formally.  The thin line of her lips told him she was not impressed with his greeting.

 

“Mother!  What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to see my son.  Is that so unbelievable?”

 

“Since I haven’t seen you in months, your appearance here is rather … unexpected,” Brian said dryly.

 

“Well, are you going to invite me in or do I have to stand here on the doorstep?” Joan asked with an icy voice.  She had expected a warmer welcome when she had made the effort to come all the way to Brian’s loft on a cold winter night.

 

“Come in,” Brian stated with no warmth or welcome in his voice.

 

Joan stepped across the threshold.  “You have a tree,” she said in amazement as the beautiful tree came into her range of vision.

 

“Yes, I have a tree.”  
  
”And it’s real.  I can smell it.”

 

“Yes, it’s real.  I can have a real tree if I want one,” Brian said rather petulantly.

 

“Of course you can.  You always thought you could do anything you wanted to.”

 

“Mother,” Brian said in exasperation, “what do you want?  Why are you here right before Christmas?  To criticize my tree?”

 

“I wasn’t criticizing,” Joan said quickly.  “I was just surprised that you have a tree, a real tree.  You never used to celebrate Christmas at all.”

 

“Things change,” Brian said cryptically.

 

“So I see.  Where’s your young man?”

 

“My young man?” Brian asked, surprised that Joan would remember her brief encounter with Justin.  “That’s really none of your business.”

 

“So, he’s gone.  He was far too young for you anyway.”

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Brian demanded unable to curb his tongue at Joan’s snide remarks.

 

“I … I came here because I … I have something to give you,” Joan said hesitantly.

 

“I don’t want anything from you,” Brian replied harshly.  He watched his mother clutch at the opening of her coat like she was trying to pull it closer to protect herself.  Her hand looked white and small, Brian noticed.  He had never realized that before.  Her face had turned very pale.  “Are you all right?” he asked, suddenly concerned by how small and frail she looked in spite of her biting words.

 

“I’m fine,” Joan declared.  “I brought you this.”  She held up a plastic grocery bag that Brian hadn’t paid any attention to before.

 

“Lovely wrapping paper,” Brian said sarcastically, but he took the bag from her.

 

“That’s all I came for.  I’ll be going.”  Joan took a step towards the door when she heard a voice call, “Brian.”  She looked up to see Brian’s young man at the top of the bedroom steps holding a child in his arms.  The little boy was dressed in what looked like Spiderman pajamas.

 

“What is it?” Brian asked across the loft.

 

“Gus is ready for his story, but I see that you have company,” Justin replied.

 

“Mother, you’ve met Justin once before.”

 

“Yes, yes, I have,” Joan said clutching at the closure of her coat more tightly.  It was like she was suddenly feeling a cold breeze blowing through the loft.  “Who is that child … and what are you doing with him?” she demanded.

 

“Gus just finished his shower.  Brian was going to read him a story,” Justin said uncertainly.  He wasn’t sure what Brian’s mother was implying, but he didn’t like her tone.

 

“Why do you have a child here?” Joan asked, a feeling of horror rising in her throat.  She had read about pedophiles in the newspaper and her son had had that incident with John.

 

“I have a child here, because he’s my son,” Brian said angrily.  He dropped the grocery bag beside the sofa, feeling like he no longer wanted to touch it or anything else associated with his so called mother.  He left Joan standing where she was to walk across the room and take Gus from Justin.  “This is your grandson, if you’d care to say hello.”  Brian used all the sarcasm he could muster.  The old bat wasn’t going to come into his home and accuse him of molesting another child.

 

“Your son?  How do you have a son?  And he must be five years old.  Why haven’t I seen him before?”

 

“Maybe because the last time you were here you found out that I was gay, and you’ve never been back until now,” Brian reminded her.

 

“Well, I had my reasons,” Joan said defensively.  
  
”Yeah, and I know those reasons all too well.”  Brian noted that Joan was staring at Gus.  He had offered to introduce them, but Joan seemed rooted to the floor with shock.  With a big sigh and a whisper in Gus’ ear, he carried the boy over to meet his grandmother.  “Gus, this is your grandmother Joan.”

 

“Hi,” Gus said coyly staring at the old lady.

 

“Hello, Gus,” Joan replied gently.  Her hand, that had been clutching her coat tightly around her, reached out for a fraction of a second to take Gus’ hand.  Then she drew it back like she was afraid to touch her grandson.

 

“Shake hands,” Brian prompted his son.  Gus extended his hand and Joan tentatively took it in hers.

 

“And how old are you?” Joan asked.

 

“I’m five,” Gus replied proudly.

 

“You seem like a fine young man,” Joan conceded.

 

“He is.  Aren’t you, Sonny Boy?” Brian whispered to his son, but loud enough for Joan to hear.

 

“Sonny Boy,” Joan repeated.  “That’s what your father used to call you.”

 

“Yeah,” Brian answered, fighting the urge to make a face at the memory.

 

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Gus,” Joan said finally reluctantly releasing the little hand that she had been holding.

 

“I was going to make some hot chocolate,” Justin said, deciding that something needed to be done.  “Would you care to stay and have a cup with us?”

 

Brian gave Justin a look and Justin shrugged and smiled at his partner.

 

“Oh, I don’t know.  Brian probably doesn’t want me here,” Joan said with sadness clearly in her voice.

 

“You’re welcome to have some hot chocolate,” Brian said, deciding it was fucking Christmas and Joan was there and she might want to get to know Gus … but not for too long, he decided.  There was only so much he was willing to put up with where Joan was concerned.

 

“Thank you, Brian,” Joan said sincerely.  “I’d like that.  Maybe I can learn more about your son.”  
  
Brian nodded and Justin hustled off to get the hot chocolate going.  He plugged in the kettle that he had asked Brian to fill, and watched Brian set Gus down and help Joan off with her coat.  Joan reached down and held out her hand for Gus to take it.  To his credit, Gus smiled and placed his hand back in Joan’s.  They walked over to the sofa together while Brian hung up Joan’s coat.

 

Brian glanced back to the kitchen where Justin was waiting for the kettle to boil.  Brian could see the mugs all set out on the counter.  Justin had added a fourth one for Joan.  He gave Justin a sheepish look and shrugged.  Justin just grinned at him showing his approval of Brian letting Joan stay.

 

Joan and Gus were pointing at ornaments on the tree and watching the lights twinkle on and off.  Brian stood silently taking in the scene.  He never thought he would see Joan Kinney looking at his Christmas tree in his loft with his son.  He had had no intention of ever telling her about Gus.  And here she was talking to Gus and seeming to enjoy herself doing it.  Brian shook his head in wonderment.  Maybe there actually were Christmas miracles.

 

Justin made the hot chocolate with the mix he had bought earlier that day before Gus arrived.  His mothers were staying at a nearby hotel, but Gus wanted to stay with his daddy.  So that’s how they had arranged things.  Melanie and Lindsay could have some time alone and then would be over in the morning … early.

 

“Here’s the hot chocolate,” Justin announced, carrying the tray to the living room.

 

“Have a seat, mother,” Brian said indicating that she should sit on the sofa.  Gus crawled up and sat beside her.  “Here’s your hot chocolate, mother, and yours, Gus.  You need to be very careful though.  Chocolate on white is not a good look.”

 

“’Kay, Daddy,” Gus replied, as he accepted the mug which was barely half full.  Justin thought that would be plenty of chocolate for the little boy and much easier for Gus to handle than a full mug would have been.

 

Joan watched these proceedings carefully.  She had to admit that she couldn’t fault Brian or Justin for the way they were handling the boy.

 

“Are you ready for your story?” Brian asked Gus.

 

“Yep,” Gus said nodding his head enthusiastically until he realized his hot chocolate was sloshing around too much in his mug.

 

“Do you mind, mother?” Brian asked.  “Gus will have to go to bed soon.  It’s getting to be his bedtime.”

 

“No, of course not, but where does Gus sleep?” Joan asked looking around the loft.  All she could see was the one bedroom.  Surely the child didn’t sleep with Brian and his … young man.

 

“I sleep over there,” Gus stated, pointing to the alcove on the other side of the kitchen.  Brian had set up a screen behind which was an inflatable mattress that was all set out with sheets and blankets and pillows and Gus’ favorite teddy bear.  “It’s my room,” Gus said proudly.

 

“That’s very nice,” Joan replied giving approval to those arrangements.

 

“Thank you, Mother,” Brian said sarcastically.  “ _The Night Before Christmas,”_ Brian read from the front of the book he had placed on the coffee table.  He picked up the book and opened it to the first page.  “I seem to remember this story,” Brian said with a smirk.

 

“You ought to,” Joan supplied.  “I read it to you every Christmas until you were about Gus’ age, maybe a little older.

 

Brian was about to deny any such thing had ever happened, when he had the strangest memory flash through his head.

 

“Where’s that bag I brought you,” Joan said.  “You never opened it.”  
  
Brian glared at her.  Everything that came out of his mother’s mouth seemed to be an accusation.  “Right beside you … on the floor.”

 

Joan reached over the arm of the sofa and retrieved the bag.  She pulled it open to reveal the contents.  Brian tried not to gasp as she unfolded what was inside.  He hadn’t seen that thing in thirty years.  He was very surprised that his mother still had it.  And whatever had possessed her to bring it to him … tonight.

 

“I thought we could spread this out across our legs.  This isn’t the warmest place I’ve ever been in,” Joan said as she spread the quilt out over her legs and Gus’.  She handed the end of the quilt to Brian.  Brian fingered the old material before laying it down on his own lap.  Gus snuggled under the quilt and leaned against his father.

 

“Cozy, Sonny Boy?” Brian asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Remember how you used to snuggle under the Christmas quilt just like Gus is doing?” Joan asked.

“And then you would read me _The Night Before Christmas_ ,” Brian added.  

“It was our special time,” Joan said.  “Claire would be off doing something on her own.  She never wanted to cuddle.”

 

Brian snorted, but not very loudly.  He remembered those times that Joan was referring to.  Jack always scoffed about what a stupid holiday Christmas was, how it was created to make people spend all kinds of money they didn’t have.  And then they would be in debt for the rest of the year.  After a while Brian began to subscribe to that belief too.

 

“I guess I was pretty gullible back then,” Brian sighed.

 

“You were a happy toddler,” Joan declared.

 

“Maybe,” Brian replied.  He remembered when he was maybe a year older than Gus; he had told his mother that there was no Santa Claus and that Christmas was a pile of shit.  He had heard both those things from his drunken father.  He and Joan never sat under the quilt again.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this quilt,” he added.

 

“What’s this, Daddy?” Gus asked, pointing to part of the design on the quilt.

 

“That’s the swans a-swimming,” Brian said gently.

 

“And this?”

 

“The partridge in a pear tree.”

 

“What’s a partridge?”

 

“It’s a kind of bird.”

 

“Why’s it in the pear tree?” Gus wanted to know.

 

“It’s part of a Christmas song,” Brian explained.

 

“Wait,” Justin interrupted.  “I know how we can show Gus about _The Twelve Days of Christmas._ ”  He got up and went to the stereo.  “They had this Christmas album on sale at the supermarket when I picked up the hot chocolate mix today.”  Justin turned on the sound system and popped the CD in.  He clicked it a couple of times to find the right song.

 

When it started with the first day of Christmas, Brian pointed to the partridge.  For the second day of Christmas Joan found the two turtle doves and pointed them out to Gus.  Justin watched, sipping his hot chocolate, as the song played through.  Mother and son showed Gus each of the items mentioned in the old Christmas carol.  Justin wondered when the last time was that Brian and Joan had done something together and enjoyed it, because they really seemed to be having a sweet time together.

 

The _Twelve Days of Christmas_ ended and Gus looked from Joan to Brian.  “That was neat,” he said enthusiastically.

 

“Glad you liked it, Sonny Boy.”  Brian smiled at his son.  He gently ruffled his hair.

 

“That was just the way we used to go through the song,” Joan said with a sentimental look in her eye.

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Brian admitted.  He stared at the Christmas tree for a long time, remembering things that he hadn’t thought about in years.  Joan had the same wistful look on her face.  

 

Justin watched them, deciding not to say anything.  He liked the look of peace on Brian’s face.  

 

Finally Brian said, “You ready for your story now, Gus?”

 

Gus nodded and snuggled down under the quilt.  Joan took his nearly empty hot chocolate mug and set it on the coffee table before leaning back to enjoy Brian reading the old Christmas story.

 

Justin got up and turned the sound down on the stereo so that it would be quiet background music for Brian’s reading.  He sat back down and listened to the soft dulcet tones of Brian’s voice as he read the famous Christmas poem.  By the time the story was finished Gus was asleep.

 

“I should put Gus to bed,” Brian whispered.

 

“Could we just stay like this for a minute more?” Joan requested.

 

“Sure,” Brian agreed as Gus’ head drooped against his arm.  He could see the shape of Joan’s hand beneath the thin quilt as she found the hand of her grandson and clasped it gently.  Brian smiled at the sight and looked over at Justin.

 

Justin smiled back, giving Brian one of his most beautiful ones.  He mouthed, “You done good.”  Brian looked sheepish but happy.

 

After a few minutes of quiet time together, Joan looked over at Brian.  “I should be going,” she whispered softly.

 

“Yeah, I’ll put Gus down and get your coat.”

 

“Thanks.  Could I help tuck him in?”

 

“Of course.”  
  
Brian lifted Gus and carried him over to the screened off area.  Joan followed along.  She folded back the covers and Brian laid Gus in his makeshift bed.  Joan pulled the covers over the boy and leaned down to kiss his cheek.  Brian reached for Joan’s arm to help her up after the kiss.

 

“Thank you,” she said.  “You have a lovely son.”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“I wish you had told me about him,” Joan said.  Brian had expected her to attack him over that lapse, but all he heard in her voice was sadness.

 

“Would you like me to bring him by for a few minutes on Christmas Day?” Brian offered.

 

“You’d do that?”

 

“Sure.  We’re going to be busy, but I’ll find a few minutes in the afternoon.  He’ll have his favorite new toy to show you.”  
  
”That would be lovely, Brian,” Joan said as Brian walked her to the door of the loft.  Justin held her coat and helped her on with it.  “It was very nice of you both to invite me in.  I’ll … remember this night for a long time.  I hope you’ll keep the quilt.  It has some good memories.”

 

“I will,” Brian replied as he slid back the loft door.  He and Justin watched Joan disappear as the elevator took her back to the main floor.

 

“Who’d a thunk it?” Justin said sliding the loft door closed.  

 

“Joan Kinney and Christmas spirit in the same fucking room,” Brian snorted.

 

“But it was kind of nice too.  You three looked so cute all cuddled up under the Christmas quilt.”

 

“I don’t do cute,” Brian protested.

 

“Pardon me.  I meant Joan and Gus looked so cute cuddled under the quilt.”

 

“Twat,” Brian snarked, but he pulled Justin against him and kissed the young man’s cheek.

 

“It was sweet.  Do you remember that quilt and what Joan was saying about it?”

 

“Yeah.  It was a long time ago and I’d forgotten all about the quilt.  But I remembered as soon as I saw it.”  
  
”Maybe there’s something to those Christmas miracles after all,” Justin speculated.

 

“Yeah, maybe there is.  Let’s go to bed and make a little Christmas magic of our own.”

 

Brian slung his arm over Justin’s shoulders and they walked like that up to their bedroom.  The traditional visions of sugar plums that night were replaced with memories of a kind and happy Joan Kinney and a little boy who had brought them all together.

 


End file.
